


The Rescue

by MadMacha



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dorian's Epologue, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Meh, Post-Trespasser, Rescue, terrible trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMacha/pseuds/MadMacha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The full story of what happened in Dorian's Tresspasser epilogue.<br/>Quick and rough but I use these as writing exercises when dealing with my own writer's block.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Magister sat a moment at his desk, gathering his thoughts and calming the anger within him. He wasn't going to let her hear it this time. Speaking to his closest friend after a council meeting always calmed him but he felt guilty afterwards. Despite loving nothing more than to talk about himself, he did want to hear about her new life and how she was adjusting. He could never hide the distress in his voice, no matter how hard he tried. He drew out the two chains from around his neck. One had a piece of a dragon's tooth encased in silver fastenings. The rest of the tooth, far too large to secretly wear as jewelry, sat on the shelf behind him, a reminder of someone else far away that he loved dearly. With a deep breath, he channeled a bit of energy into the crystal and it illuminated with life.

"Dorian!" a cheery voice squeaked through the crystal. A smile spread across his face. It had always been a near impossible thing not to smile when he heard his dearest friend’s voice. Once known as the Inquisitor, now had a new title and a new life.

"Bann Rutherford, a pitch higher and you may shatter the sending crystal," he scolded playfully. 

"Oh, still getting used to hearing that title," she replied with a sigh.

"Congratulations are in order. You seem to be moving back up in the world. First married and now holding the title of the first Elven Bann in the history of Thedas."

"Yes, Cullen was content to live the rest of his life quietly in the country, but I've always had high aspirations. That and King Alistair insisted on it... as well as Divine Victoria."

"You have your fingers in all of the right jars it seems."

"Wait... your voice... what's wrong? You're angry and you're trying to hide it from me!" she snapped and he sighed.

"How did you..."

"Because I always know, Magister Pavus! Now tell me who the bad Magister was and I'll sick Charter after him."

Dorian let out an amused laugh. "The council is insisting we ignore the fact that the Venatori are still a threat despite how hard I push."

"Do you suspect any of them of being Venatori?"

"Without a doubt. Possibly even leading the remaining few."

"That would put your life in danger, Dorian."

"When is it not? I am a Magister of Tevinter. My life is always in danger, Lavellan... sorry, Bann Rutherford."

"You don't have to call me that. I hear it so much I miss my first name sometimes. It’s all titles when you’re a noble."

"You went by ‘Inquisitor’ for so long I’m surprised you remember your name at all.”

She let out a short laugh. “Is it strange that I miss that title sometimes?”

“Not at all,” he replied sullenly. “Now, enough with my drama, Val, how has life been with the retired templar and your... pet."

"I wish I had a Mabari earlier in my life. These dogs are incredible and has been a great friend for Cullen. He still struggles... from time to time. But he's helping others out here and that keeps him busy and happy. Also... you will have to plan a trip down here in late fall to meet your nephew."

"Oh I would love to but... wait what?! Val! You’re expecting?"

"Cullen insists it'll be a boy but I'll be thrilled either way."

"I am so happy for you, Val. I'll send something down to you. Mae will be thrilled. She’s been waiting for this news and will insist on accompanying me."

"I hope so. You both are always welcome! Have you heard from Bull?"

"It's been a few weeks. I am certain he will be in touch any day now so I try not to worry so much. He teases me when I do."

"Well, when you see him next be sure to tell him the good news and that we have plenty of room for all the Chargers."

"Oh, so you are opening an inn now?"

"Ha! Might as well! Thom recently stayed with us while he was passing through. He's doing good work."

"I'm glad to hear it. I miss everyone... more often than I'll admit it."

"I miss you too, Dorian."

"Of course you do! You have been deprived of this beautiful face and perfect hair for far too long."

"Are you still growing it out? I bet it's beautiful."

"'Tis. I can barely keep my fingers out of it," he replied proudly.

“Cullen grew everything out,” Val said in a dreamy voice and Dorian let lose a snort.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing, Val. But to each their own. Last I saw, Bull had gotten a bit scruffy and he even has a strip of hair running between those massive horns of his.” Dorian’s own voice began to get a little dreamy and Val giggled.

“I should let you go, Dorian. I need to go feed the hala and Cullen will be home soon.”

“What a life you lead, Brann Val’alin Rutherford,” Dorian said her name with an extra bit of showmanship and he could practically hear her eyes roll.

“Please be careful, Dorian. Remember I’m always here if you need help and I’m sure the Chargers are close by.”

“I shall try my best to stay alive and will keep you updated.”

“Try not to wait a month before contacting me this time, Dorian.”

“I promise, Val. Vitae benefaria.”

“Dareth shiral, ma falon.”


	2. Chapter 2

               The light on the crystal dimmed and Dorian felt profoundly alone in the quiet of his home. His hand came up, unconsciously, to the dragon tooth and spun it around in his fingers. Bull had been horrible at remembering to write but Dorian still received word, in some form or another, about the infamous Iron Bull and his Chargers. It had been near two months since he'd last seen him and a few weeks since the last letter. He couldn't help but worry about his amatus and most of the time that infuriated him. Dorian scoffed, frustrated by his train of thought and decided fresh air would be wise... and wine... lots of wine.

               Despite having plenty of wine on hand in his own home, the quiet was making him ill and he decided a loud pub or inn of some kind would be preferable. He dressed in one of his less pretentious ensembles, informed the servants and headed out into the city. Being out in the open was, of course, the opposite of being safe but that wasn’t going to stop him from a good drink and something to keep his mind off… everything. There was an inn not far from his home in the city that mostly catered to merchants passing through. That would be safer than a pub of locals. Less likely they would recognize him.

               “You’re worst wine in you finest glass, please,” he said with a friendly grin and took a seat at the bar. The soporati behind the counter nodded with no expression whatsoever and poured his drink. “Many thanks.” Dorian let out a sigh, sipping at his wine and began listening in on the surrounding conversations. One traveler was complaining about a wyvern near the border that had killed most of his guards before he barely escaped.

               “That was near three days ago now,” he finished and another trader chimed in, this time catching Dorian’s full attention.

               “That wyvern was slain day before last. No need to worry about it now,” the man with the bald head announced.

               “What? Who killed it? I would have paid in gold for that hide,” Dorian didn’t bother searching for the source of the second voice as the bald one was the only man who held his interest.

               “A merc band calling themselves the Chargers. They were hired out by someone in the village near the wyvern’s nest.”

               “Think I’ve heard of them… didn’t they work for the Inquisition few years back?”

               Dorian was done listening and sped towards the bald man. “These mercenaries, do you know where they are now?”

               The bald man looked surprised by the interruption but answered Dorian’s question nonetheless. “Aye, they made camp a couple miles south of the city, last I saw.”

               “Thank you,” Dorian replied quickly and raced from the inn. He knew it was a bad idea leaving the city so late at night but he couldn’t wait another moment and the thought of seeing Bull again forced all logic from his mind.

               Sure enough, just as the merchant had said, Dorian caught the glimpse of a small camp down the hill from where he stood, panting. There were a handful of tents and a small fire in the center. He couldn’t see anyone around but he was far enough away it would be hard to spot anyone in the dark. He heard a snap behind him but didn’t manage to turn as an intense pain in his side prevented him from moving. Dorian looked down in shock at the tip of an arrow sitting just above his hip on his right side.

               “Venhedis! Fasta vass, he’s to be alive you fool!” a voice hissed behind Dorian who now grimaced from the intensifying pain and fell to one knee. His hand came up around the arrow but he’d been shot from behind and getting the arrow out would be difficult. He summoned what strength he could and started to form a ball of fire in his palm. He threw it back without looking and heard a painful scream behind him.

               “Kaffas! Bind his hands quickly!” Another yelled. Dorian reach up with his free hand to seize his staff only to grasp at air.

“Fasta vass, you fool,” Dorian hissed at himself and spun around quickly to face the enemies, bringing up a wall of fire between him and the men. Venatori, by their armor, not that he was surprised. With that wall between him and the soldiers and made a run for the camp. Every step sent an intense jolt of pain, wracking his body and he wasn’t sure he’d make it. He paused only briefly to snap the arrowhead off the shaft, cutting the inside of his hand wide open, before ripping the rest of the arrow from his side. Dorian let out two painful cries before getting to his feet and continuing on. The soldiers behind him had started to follow now that the flames died out. Relief flooded Dorian as he reached the camp, the front of his robes now soaked in blood. He hated getting blood on his clothes.

               Dread set in, however, as he realized no one was there. Soldiers emerged from the tents one at a time but they weren’t the Chargers. Dorian cursed his own foolishness, realizing he’d been ambushed. He didn’t have time to react as something hard struck the back of his head and he was engulfed in darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian was still cursing when he came too again. His hands were bound tightly behind his back and the intense pain in his side was still present. The slightest movement made him violently ill as he tried to move to a more comfortable position. After a few moments he finally opened his eyes with a groan. He was in a prison cell, laying on the cold, damp stone. He sat up slowly and rested his back against the wall while he breathed through the pain. The blood was still wet and now reached close to his knees. That was a lot of blood, he thought. It was clear no one had bothered to patch him up yet. He felt faint and his head throbbed along with every other part of his body.

               “Andraste’s ass,” he groaned, picking up one of Varric’s favorite curses. Outside of his cell were half a dozen more filled with a variation of humans, elves and Qunari.

               “What did you expect to find when you woke up? Wine and cake?” a deep voice commented darkly and Dorian jumped suddenly becoming aware of his cellmate sitting next to him on the other side.

               “A cheap beer would do fine,” Dorian replied sarcastically and looked over at his new friend. He was an elf with dark skin and sheet white hair down to his shoulders in a loose braid. Dorian had seen plenty of Dalish with Vallaslin but this elf’s markings were strange and seemed to cover his entire body. He’d seen this before.

               The elf scoffed at his reply and looked away bitterly. “They said they wanted you alive,” he growled. “It is a shame they are unaware of my feelings towards Magisters or they may have put you in a different cell.”

               “How would you know if I were a Magister?” Dorian asked in a casual tone, ignoring the elf’s threat.

               “Your hands are bound, so clearly you are a mage or they would not bother. Your ridiculously groomed hair and clothes are an obvious give away that you are higher status than a common laetan.”

               “I don’t know, my clothing is rather tame compared to most Magister robes.”

               “Plush fustian velvet under wyvern scale leather. It may not be flashy but it is expensive.”

               “Well, I suppose you have me there. So, I shall add broody elf to the list of people that wish me dead?” Dorian replied with a hint of frustration. He shrank a little as the elf stood quickly and the white swirling markings on his skin began to glow. “What the…”

               “They will kill me after this but one less Magister will make my death easier.”


	4. Chapter 4

               “Kaffas, I survived the Imperium and the Inquisition, I suppose my luck would run out eventually,” Dorian groaned surprisingly at ease despite the pain and emanate death.

               The elf stopped, though still scowling, and knelt in front of Dorian. “What do you mean you survived the Inquisition?” He spoke slowly and intensely.

               Dorian let out a painful breath and sighed. “I joined the Inquisition after fleeing Tevinter.”

               “You were… part of the Inquisition? A Tevinter Magister?” the elf was skeptical but at least he wasn’t trying to kill him so Dorian continued. “It was rough at the start, but by the end, I came away with a lot of good friends.”

               A sudden pain crossed the elf’s face now, twisting into such grief that even Dorian started to feel sympathetic and he wasn’t sure why. “Did you… know Hawke?”

               What blood was left in Dorian’s face exited quickly as he started to understand who this elf was. “I see… you must be Fenris.” The elf’s eyes went wide for a moment and then he dropped his head and sat down. “I am very sorry for your loss. I was there… in the fade with them.”

               “You are the first person I have spoken to of it since I received the letter from Varric. I wanted to have a word with the dwarf in person but I was a coward. Too afraid that if I spoke of it…”

               “It would be real,” Dorian finished. “Hawke spoke of you often. She was so worried that most of the time Varric would take her out for drinks so she’d calm down. I went out with them a few times. She had a will of iron and a heart of gold.” Fenris scoffed again and looked away. “This world is smaller than we think. When she spoke of you I never guessed it was _you_. I remember you, Fenris. I recognized you from one of the many parties my father used to drag me to in support of his fellow Magisters. Danarius was a special kind of monster. I was present at your ‘unveiling’. As if blood sacrifices of slaves weren’t enough, he experimented on them.”

               “Did you enjoy that party?” Fenris asked in a low, dangerous tone.

               “The wine was terrible so I retired early. Left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Fenris let out a short laugh and sighed with resolve. “I suppose if Hawke did not kill you then I have no reason to.”

“Any chance you’ll untie my hands? I’m getting a horrible cramp.”

“Not a chance, mage.”

Dorian nodded. “Baby steps.”

Fenris continued, ignoring Dorian’s wit. “I had been hunting Tevinter slavers for the past few years but it seems they finally caught up with me. These ‘Venatori’ are more organized than the usual slaver.”

“Yes, we had plenty of bloody interactions with them during the Inquisition. Can’t say I’m thrilled to see them again. I had been investigating them, suspecting one of the Magisters on the counsel to be leading them.”

“I would say you were correct,” Fenris replied ironically and moved close to Dorian.

“Yes, seeing the trouble they went through to get me here.” As Dorian spoke, Fenris inspected his wounds.

“You won’t throw a fit if I rip your robe, will you?”

“Only if you don’t by me a drink first,” Dorian teased. Fenris’s eyes went wide for a brief moment before rolling them and continuing. He tore a long strip of fabric away from the robe and tied it around Dorian’s waste, pulling it tight. Dorian let out a quick protest from the pain before breathing through it and relaxing again.

“You went very quickly from bent on killing me to tending my wounds.”

“I don’t have to like you mage,” Fenris growled, “But if Hawke trusted you then I will respect that.”

“You must have cared for her a great deal,” Dorian replied, sadly.

“She was everything. When I received the letter I could not think of a single reason to keep going.”

“What changed your mind?”

“A lot of wine and hatred,” Fenris replied as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Fair enough. There’s someone in my life. Someone I cannot speak of when I’m around the other Magisters. Someone I rarely get to see while we’re both off trying to make the world a better place. But I adore him with every fiber of my being and my world would be much darker without him… and possibly less bloody. That’s how these bastards caught me. Lured me out here with false rumors of my amatus being close by.”

“Was he also part of the Inquisition?”

“Yes, his mercenary group was hired on before I joined. I couldn’t stand him at first,” Dorian let out a weak laugh and rested his head back against the wall. His eyelids were beginning to feel heavier but he knew he needed to stay awake as best he could.

“I did not care much for Hawke either… at first. She was a mage after all,” Fenris replied, moving to sit beside Dorian.

“And clearly you aren’t a fan,” Dorian added sarcastically and Fenris frowned. “I can’t say I blame you… after what the Magister did to you. No one should go through what you did. I wouldn’t wish it on my greatest enemy.”

“It is…” Fenris hesitated, “comforting to hear that from you… of all people.”

“Well only because you don’t know me. I’ve become quite the sap since spending all that time with the Inquisitor.

“Elf!” One of the large guards growled as he entered the prison. “You’re up!”

“Up? Up for what?” Dorian asked with concern.

“They’ve been pitting me in a fighting arena for the past week I’ve been here,” Fenris replied in a dark tone now and stood.

“He’s been making me a lot of money too!” the guard announced with a menacing cheer.

“I shall return in a few hours,” Fenris groaned and walked to the door of the cell where the guard took him roughly by the arm and dragged him out, “Try not to die while I am gone.”

Dorian leaned back against the wall as the guard dragged Fenris away. His eyes were now immensely heavy and he found himself exhausted from conversation. Speaking of Bull only made him miss the oaf even more and he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Maybe, somehow, Bull would find him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Dorian?” a quiet voice brought Dorian back to consciousness and his eyes snapped open. The sending crystal glowed faintly beneath his clothes. He assumed they had taken it from him but they more than likely had no idea what it was as it was one of a kind.

“Val?” he whispered in a raspy voice, attempting to not alert the guards.

“Dorian! Thank the creators! What is going on? Maevaris sent word to Bull and I that you had disappeared in the night and not returned!”

“Keep your voice down. And yes… I’m in trouble,” Dorian replied, finding it harder and harder to speak in his weakening state.

“Where are you?”

“The Venatori got a hold of me, I fear. They’re keeping me alive… more or less, for now but I don’t know how long that’ll last. We’re in a fort of some kind… but that’s all I know. I can’t have been unconscious for more than a few hours so we should be relatively close to Minrathos.”

“I’m sending word to Bull as we speak. He will find you! Can you keep the crystal active?”

“I fear my strength is running out. They let me bleed out until my cell mate patched me up. Still not doing wonderful.”

“Bleeding?” Val growled on the other end like an angry puppy and Dorian smiled.

“They may have shot me… but I’ll survive. The crystal is failing, I’ll contact you when I get out…” The crystal dimmed and Dorian sighed. “If I get out.”

He slipped in and out of consciousness, losing all sense of time as a result. Eventually he was woken by the loud clank of the cell door. Two large guards towed Fenris back in and tossed him to the floor. He was barely conscious and covered in blood.

“Seems you didn’t fare as well this fight,” Dorian sighed.

“If I’d lost, I’d be dead,” he growled in a weakened voice. He lay face down on the cold stone and didn’t bother moving from that position.

“Then I pity your opponent.”

“You, mage, fix him,” the guard ordered. “If he dies, you die.” Dorian rolled his eyes at the guard’s obvious charm.

“You barely left me with enough strength to stay conscious, now you want me casting spells?” The guard lifted him roughly off the ground and the pain in his side came screaming back. He released the restraints on Dorian’s arms and they fell numbly to his sides. The guard tossed Dorian back against the wall and locked the door behind him as he left. Dorian groaned a moment, drooping to his knees as the sickening pain resided a bit. With a shallow breath he crawled to Fenris’s side and turned the elf over who grimaced at the movements. There were several claw marks in his side and blood trickling down his face.

“Fasta vas, what did they do to you?”

“Terror demons,” Fenris choked through staggered breaths and Dorian began to wonder if there was anything he could do for the elf. What little strength he had was summoned in the form of a dull blue light at his palm and he worked to stop the bleeding first. Fenris flinched and the markings began to glow under Dorian’s magic. He stared in awe, and found himself wondering how such beauty came from so much pain. If he hadn’t had someone waiting for him…

“Kaffas, are you done yet?” Fenris grunted, pulling Dorian abruptly from his thoughts.

“Oh, forgive me for using what little good health I have left to bring your glowing hide back from the void,” Dorian scoffed but swayed when his head began to spin. Fenris let one of his eyes open to glance at Dorian.

“If you can, bind the wounds and rest. We are no good to each other if either dies.”

“Oh, that was nice. You said something nice!” Dorian replied enthusiastically and the elf scoffed again.

“Careful Vint, I may be down but I could still rip that pretty mustache off your face,” he growled and tried to sit up but Dorian casually pushed him back to the ground. Fenris glared but didn’t fight back.

“Oh, you think it’s pretty. I do quite fancy it myself,” he continued, ignoring the fuming elf next to him. He took Fenris’s head in his hand and gently lifted it as the other came down to rest on the elf’s forehead. Fenris went rigged by Dorian’s sudden close proximity. His head cleared and the pounding ceased as the glow from Dorian’s hand faded and the mage collapsed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick angsty chapter as a result of a busy weekend. More to come when things slow back down.

“Venhidas!” Fenris croaked with surprise and sat himself up. Dorian was unconscious but alive. Fenris’s hand came up to wrap around his side but he pulled it up in front of his face quickly in surprise. The vint had stopped his bleeding, at least. He leaned against the wall, holding his side and staring at the mage on the ground before him. Not just a mage, a Magister. The embodiment of everything he loathed in this void ridden life.

For nearly three years he mercilessly hunted and killed hundreds of slavers and Venatori, each kill numbing him and fueling the hatred that helped him forget. And now, captive and dying, he was faced with a Magister he couldn’t kill. Someone that, in only a few words, had brought back all that pain and anguish he’d fought so hard to forget. His head dropped low and he brought his hand up to his face, rubbing it in frustration and dragging his fingers up through his hair. He thanked the Maker there was no one there to see the tears. As he brought his hand back down he paused, his eye lingering on the dirty, tattered red cloth tied around his wrist.

When Hawke had given it to him he’d joked that it was her own brand for him. Her way of laying claim to him. She frowned at him and said “no this is my heart laid bare, for all to see that it belongs to you”. At the time he scoffed at such sentiment but he never took it off. He always kept her heart close and wore it proudly. It was his way of mocking his past and showing it that he could be loved… it wasn’t impossible for a slave to find love… to be free. Fenris wiped the dampness from his face and took a deep, staggered breath. All of these thoughts; all of these memories flooding back, all because of a magister. Perhaps this Dorian was not so bad after all. Maybe he could change things, make this world a little less horrible. If they made it out alive, perhaps Dorian would accept his help.


	7. Chapter 7

Dorian woke, drenched in sweat and shivering. A fever wasn’t surprising in his condition but it was one step closer to his inevitable death that he had hoped to avoid. He lay still primarily because he couldn’t find the strength to move and took a deep, steady breath. He broke into a fit of coughs and the elf was suddenly at his side, helping him sit up so he wouldn’t choke.

“You look like death,” Fenris commented, flinching at the pain of his sudden movements. Dorian smirked.

“You’re one to talk,” he croaked through a dry mouth.

“I am better than I was, thanks to you,” he replied and looked away.

“Was that gratitude?” Dorian asked, his smile widening. “That’s a long way from wanting me dead!”

“I have had time to think, and I may have been quick to judge you.”

“That is kind of you to say, Fenris,” Dorian replied but began coughing again.

“Can you not heal yourself?” Fenris asked, not bothering to hide the concern.

Dorian shook his head. “I fear I’m not strong enough.”

“You had better not die as a result of healing me, mage,” Fenris threatened and Dorian huffed with an ironic thought.

“If I die, it’ll be from poor choices and alcohol. Funny how they threaten death if I don’t keep you alive but don’t bat an eye to my declining health. I thought they wanted me alive.”

“Perhaps something changed. Did they mean to ransom you off?”

“I don’t know. If their leader is, in fact, a magister, I’d assume they would have me killed by now.”

“Perhaps they are toying with you?”

“Tis a game after all,” Dorian replied flatly. “I do hope Bull finds us in time.”

“Bull?”

“I managed to send word to a friend of mine about the… current situation. She had contacted my… other friend and his mercenaries. I gave her an idea as to where I am.”

“So this… friend of yours. They one you care about, his name is Bull?”

“The Iron Bull, technically. He does love the article.”

“What kind of a name is _The_ Iron Bull?” Fenric raised an eyebrow at him.

“The big horned oaf named himself,” Dorian replied with an exasperated sigh.

“Big… horned… maker’s balls, are you with a Qunari?” Fenris’s voice was between disgust and amusement. Dorian couldn’t tell which, however and frowned.

“Keep your voice down! We’re just… good friends.”

“You referred to him as amatus.”

“It’s just a term of endearment,” Dorian replied quickly on the defensive.

“I’m from Tevinter, I _know_ what that word means and it’s a little more intimate than just friend.” Dorian sighed and glared at the elf who’s smile had steadily been growing. “A Tevinter Magister and a Tal-Vashoth?” Fenris chuckled a little.

“How do you know he’s Tal-Vashoth?”

“He has a name and runs a mercenary band. The Tal-Vashoth that don’t murder and steal usually work at mercenaries. Unless he’s ben hassrath under cover.” Dorian raised an eyebrow.

“You know a lot about Qunari.”

“I pay attention.”

“He used to be ben hassrath, but he left the Qun a long time ago.”

“I bet the other Magisters love you. No wonder you are here now,” Fenris laughed again.

“I’ve kept it quiet, though the rumors abound. I don’t bring it up with anyone save my closest friends.”

“A wise choice,” a new voice suddenly echoed. An older woman with shallow wrinkles and silver streaked black hair appeared outside the cell. Her long dress and poise seemed as out of place as one could get, given the setting.

“Magister Bassani, nice to see you,” Dorian replied with a dangerous edge to his voice.

“Oh, you poor thing. You are in a horrendous state. I told my boys to be gentle but they are just so excitable sometimes. I hope you were not too hard on them.”

“Unfortunately I was only able to kill or horribly maim the one. Not sure how he turned out. Do send him flowers for me if he's alive.”

“And you must be the slave they have been playing with?” she turned her gaze to the glaring elf. “You are quite handsome. I remember you. Yes, you belonged to Magister Danarius. I do miss him. We were very close, you see.”

“Do you always talk this much?” Fenris hissed and she grinned at him. With a casual flick of her wrist an ice bolt shot out of her fingers and burrowed into his shoulder. Fenris cried out in pain and pulled the piece out quickly, pushing his hand hard against the wound. Dorian glanced over with concern seeing the blood trickling from between the elf’s fingers.

“Dorian, as you can imagine, I have a very good reason for bringing you here,” she continued crossing her arms. “You have been quite disruptive on the council and I do very much want to see old Tevinter restored. I had worried about the Inquisition for quite a while but thankfully it disbanded before they could completely wipe out the Venatori. Now I am commanding them and we will succeed where Corypheus failed.”

“If you keep talking I may have my new friend here finish me off so I don’t have to listen to any more of this,” Dorian groaned. The magister frowned at Dorian.

“Shame your father was not as resilient as you. He did speak highly of you and I see he was not wrong. He swore you would finish what he had started before I killed him.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst with a capitol A.N.G.S.T

Dorian’s breath caught and he inched forward slightly. Fenris felt the sudden tension. “What?” Dorian growled low.

“Oh, I know. You have been searching for so long and it has been just a joy watching you tirelessly hunt. It was just killing me inside to keep it from you.”

“Venhedis, bitch!” Dorian growled and struggled to his feet. Fenris reached out in an attempt to stop him but couldn't move fast enough to reach. He managed up on his own, leaning against the wall for support in case Dorian needed his help. He couldn't imagine how he'd help him though. They were pretty much fish in a barrel and the Magister was armed.

“Now that was not very polite. What happened to that arrogance of yours?”

Dorian took another staggered step forward taking a firm grip on the bars. The magister didn't flinch, the smile now widening across her face. “It will not be today, but I swear to you I will find you again when I get out of here and I will kill you.” Dorian's voice was low and strained. The anger inside him so strong he could barely speak the words. Fenris looked on through narrow eyes, wishing more than anything, he could lunge forward and pull out her heart before she could retreat. Her hand came up to gently brush his cheek before taking a firm grip on the front of his dirty, blood-stained robes. He couldn’t fight her pull in his current state as she slammed him into the bars and shoved something sharp into his side. Dorian choked in surprise, tasting blood.

“Dorian!” Fenris growled, taking a weak step forward. Magister Bassani ripped the dagger from him with a grin and shoved him away from the bars. Dorian’s hands came up in a desperate attempt to keep what blood he could inside his body. Fenris caught him as he collapsed, re-opening his own wound but ignoring the pain. Dorian breathed hard in a panic, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do but let her watch him die in this maker forsaken hole. That’s when the ground suddenly shook violently. Bassani cursed and looked away from the cell.

“Magister Bassani!” a guard called out to her as he rushed up in a panic, blood running down his face. “We must get you away from here!”

“What is going on? Is it the qunari?”

“No ma’am… we don’t know what it is. Come with us, quickly!” The magister glanced at Dorian one last time with a disappointed sigh and left the two in the cell as they fled.

“Kaffas!” Fenris growled through his teeth and he struggle to hold Dorian still. The mage wouldn’t last long like this. Another explosion rocked the keep and more footsteps charged into the prison. Fenris held Dorian in his lap, pushing as hard as he could on the dagger wound until Dorian stopped struggling. He was unconscious and barely breathing.

A Dalish elf suddenly appeared in front of the cell door but panic crossed her face when she saw them. “Boss! Down here! Bring Stiches!” Fenris’s eye brown rose a little as a loud, happy growl echoed through the stone and three Venatori guards came flying through the air.

“Dalish!” the voice bellowed. “Blow the locks on all the cells. Get these slaves out of here.”

“But I’m not a…” she started and the voice cut her off.

“Mage, yeah, got it. Use your fancy ass bow to break them then and quit wasting time.” As he finished talking he appeared from around the corner. He was a massive qunari, at least two men wide and a shoulder taller. His face and eyepatch were splattered with blood as he peered through the cell bars. Fenris prayed to the Maker this was the right qunari. By his sudden change of expression, he was. The qunari’s face twisted in grief and panic as he brought his sword down as hard as he could on the locks.

“Kadan!” Two strides and he was at Dorian’s side. Fenris was tense and defensive but slowly relinquished his hold on Dorian and handed him to the qunari. “Stitches! Get in here now!” he commanded and Fenris collapsed to one side, taking heavy breaths of his own.

“I am sorry. There was not much I could do for him once the bitch stabbed him.” The qunari gritted his teeth, his large hand pressing down hard on the wound. Dorian let out a painful cry but didn’t wake. “Are you Iron Bull?” This caught his attention and he looked up at the elf.

“I am. I got here as fast as I could when we got word. Who are you?”

“Fenris. I was here when they brought Dorian in. He was already injured when he arrived and has been declining since. He saved my life with what little strength he had left.”

“Stubborn, Kadan,” Bull chided gently as another man rushed in through the door. Without hesitation he tossed Bull a vial and knelt beside them. Bull inspected the vial and held it to Dorian’s lips.

Stitches sighed and rolled his eyes taking it from Bull. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s a poultice,” he groaned and pulled out a pack of bandages. “Wrap him up with these and let’s get out of here before Rocky brings this whole place down on our heads.” Bull looked back up at Fenris when he was finished bandaging Dorian.

“You coming with us?” he asked and Fenris glanced down at the Mage.

“I would like to, yes, but I can barely stand,” he replied quietly and moved his hand to reveal the bloody shreds in his side.

Stiches handed him a vial. “That one you can drink.” Fenris took it in one quick swig and managed to his feet, feeling a new surge of energy as the pain melted away. “That will keep you on your feet until we have time to properly mend you.”

“Good, let’s get moving then,” Fenris growled and led the way out of the cell. Bull scooped Dorian up gently in his arms and held him close, for the first time the fear of losing him was real. Sure they’d been injured plenty of times out on missions but never like this. Dorian was on the edge of death and it was more terrifying than any demon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter. been really busy and struggling to find time to write.

They followed a trail of slaves, running desperately towards freedom with Dalish and Stitches on their tail. Once outside in the courtyard, Fenris immediately took up a sword and joined the fray, finishing off whomever he could.

               “Krem! You nearly finished?” Bull called out across the courtyard. His first spun around, ripping his sword from one of the Venatori and nodded.

               “Yah boss! Rocky is setting up the final charges to take this place down for good!”

               “Good! Make it fast!” Krem didn’t argue, seeing Dorian’s bloodied form in Iron Bull’s arms.

               “Fenris! Clear out! The boys are blowing this place!” Bull warned. The elf turned, exhaustion and enjoyment spread across his face. He nodded once, his long white hair falling in his face, now dirty and spotted with blood. Bull took long strides towards the main gate and Dorian began to stir in his arms. He mumbled something incoherent and Bull looked down, relief spreading through him.

               “Hang on, Kadan. I’ve got you.” Dorian’s eyes began to flutter at the sound of Bull’s voice.

               “No!” A woman’s voice screeched behind them and Bull turned. “You will not interfere!” The magister screamed and a ball of fire flew at them. Bull spun around, shielding Dorian as the flame licked his shoulder. He gritted with pain as a small growl came loose from his between his teeth. He turned to face her again. She huffed and seethed with rage. “You will p-…” her words were cut short by a sickening choke and a glowing fist suddenly appeared from her chest. Fenris ripped it away, letting her body drop to the ground with a thump. Bull stared at him with wide eyes.

               “That’s new,” he commented.

               “I’ll tell you the story another time. Let’s get away from this place,” he growled and pushed passed the Qunari, “I tire of the smell.”

               The group made their way back to camp leaving a trail of dead Venatori and freed slaves in their wake. All for a single mage their leader held more sacred than any payment or treasure. Fenris walked next to Iron Bull, keeping a close eye on Dorian’s health, still wary of the strangers around him.

               “A-Amatus?” Dorian croaked from Bull’s arms with a weak smile.

               “I’m here. I’ve got you, Kadan,” he replied with a relieved tone at hearing Dorian’s voice.

               “You are so very late,” he struggled and felt the vibration of Bull’s chest as he laughed.

               “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. Had to fight through a handful of Venatori camps before we found the right one.”

               “Did Fenris make it?”

               “I did, thanks to these capable men and women,” Fenris replied, his arm now around Grim’s shoulders for support. As they entered the camp, Bull set Dorian down gently, letting Stitches work but refusing to release his Kadan’s hand. His massive hand came down to caress Dorian’s cheek and he smiled.

               “Don’t you dare do that to me again, Kadan.”

               “Oh, don’t be so sensitive. I had everything under control,” Dorian replied with a crooked grin and winced.

               “Right, completely under control.”


	10. Chapter 10

               “Oh, the sending crystal. Someone had better contact Lavell… Rutherford and let her know I’m alive… mostly.”

               “No, you were mostly dead,” Stitches corrected him. “Now, you’re only about half way there.”

               “You’re skills are unmatched, indeed,” Dorian complimented him.

               “As difficult as it will be for you, kadan, you need to shut that beautiful mouth of yours and rest.”

               Dorian frowned at him but relaxed under his touch as Bull’s hand brushed across his forehead and down his cheek. “Very well, amatus,” he mumbled, his eyes slowly closing. Bull pulled his hand away but Dorian seized it before he could leave, opening his eyes ever so slightly to look up at his love. “Missed you,” he added quietly. Bull’s surprised expression melted into a soft smile, his eyes glistening with relief.

               Dorian slipped into a deep sleep and Bull stood. “Missed you too, kadan.”

 

 

 

               Once Dorian was able to move again, Bull snuck him back into the city with Fenris where he stayed with him until he was healthy enough to get around on his own. Bull offered Fenris a place with the Chargers but Fenris declined, offering his services to Dorian instead, saying he could do more good at the side of a Magister. Dorian agreed, hiring Fenris as his bodyguard which sparked all sorts of controversy within the magisterium. Not only was the elf easily recognized to some as Danarius’s slave but he was a free elf being paid for his services. Other Magister’s followed suit and soon, Tevinter was on a path Dorian could be proud of. Fenris, I all his dark years, never thought he would become friends with a Tevinter Magister, but it happened. He and Dorian became close friends and Bull felt a little better about leaving his kadan in a pit of vipers to do his good work. He did, however, make more frequent visits to check in on him. Dorian didn’t mind this in the slightest.


End file.
